2014.02.23 - You horse have winged?
Saturday in the Park. There's been a song or two about that, maybe even a movie - but today, this Saturday, it's just another weekend for many New Yorkers who are going about their routines and activities within the huge expanse of green that's nestled in amongst the concrete and metal of the rest of the city. Some people are out walking their dogs, others are jogging the footpaths, still others are just enjoying the fairly nice weather today, relaxing after a long and stressful week. At least one individual, however, has his own routine today - just like the past few Saturdays (when the weather's been permitting), Marcus Peet has brought his guitar to one of the busier portions of the Park, has set out an open guitar case in front of him, and has started to strum and sing almost literally for his supper. Not that he's so desperate that this is his only means of income at the moment - he's pulled in a few temp jobs here and there that are helping him to pay the bills - but performing is what Marcus truly loves to do, and if the good people of New York want to toss a few greenbacks his way while he does it? Marcus won't argue in the least - and it's certainly less of a headache than figuring out contracts with seedy bar and club owners. So, until a more stable gig comes his way, this is where Marcus was last week, where he'll probably be next week, and where he's at right now. His fingers dance over the strings of his acoustic guitar, the melodies soulful as he belts out some traditional blues songs. He's pretty good, actually, and not only does his open guitar case sport a few donations already, he also garners the attention of at least a handful of passer-bys who listen for a song or two before realizing that they have schedules to keep. Thieving. Clarice is really. Really good at it. Insanely so. It doesn't take more than a second and a strange *blink* sound, and someone's wallet or purse is gone, or someone's just purchased lunch, still in the bag, disappears from their fingers. Or better yet - a vendor's stock has one less item upon it than when they last checked. She has decided to survive, you just need to pick and choose your morals, and as she's considered an 'illegal alien', though where they'd deport her to remains in question, Clarice is going to just survive. Still, she has found interesting and new places to borrow items! A unique feeling, to be certain, but she was able to borrow books! All she needed ... well ... was to acquire someone else's library card, and the busy person at the desk didn't even look up to match the card with its owner. It is this reason that Clarice is taking advantage of the fifty degree weather in New York currently, has several library books piled around her on the park bench, is munching upon a six inch sub sandwich, and listening to a strange melody coming from the guitar player. Now there's a job! Singing for your meal! Talent enough to play the guitar, and sing, /and/ get money in the process from people passing by. Brilliant. If only Clarice could play an instrument - or sing. The last time she tried she was sure that every dog in the neighbor hood she was camped in started howling, and the cats along with it. A quiet snicker escapes the purple haired mutant as the though occurs to her, leaving Clarice's luminous green eyes to lift upwards cast a glance at Marcus, then return her attention to the fascinating book in her lap. She hasn't adventured to the X-Factor place in Mutant Town, --- yet. For reasons that Clarice is still unsure of, is she ashamed she's decided after being here for a few months to finally just steal everything for a living and in that decision is pondering snatching a new tablet? Well, for now - she's at least doing the proper thing, sort of, and borrowing books... People passing by, right now, are more interested in the music than anyone on a bench - so few even give the violet skinned elf a glance. A chance remark by a friend... that language was art and art was language, had led Doug Ramsey to try and look at the world all over again, this time with an eye towards trying to think of art as language. Granted, a lot of things he'd simply blurred over because to him it was background noises. In the way that a faint humming of the air conditioning vent -told- you that the central AC was working just fine and thusly ignorable, the world was full of languages that Doug'd simply never really paid attention to. Now, though... well, hands in pockets, the young blond mutant was doing his best to sort through things. Everything was information in a way, and the way information was conveyed was a language of its own. It just remained to... well, -think- about it. Maybe it was amplification, maybe it was concentration, or maybe Doug's mutant power had just continued to mature, but following along the slow hum of the city, one could catch the strands of music. A particular style, a particular approach, and it -might- tell him more about who composed the music. A love of music for its own sake... though, he'd swear, something about the approach to it seems vaguely... "give me money please!" that people must have been touching upon somewhere... In a perfect world, of course, Marcus would be able to perform, to sing, just for the enjoyment of it, just for its own reward. Art for its own sake. And, often times he will, when he's alone or with friends. But if he's also able to earn extra cash while doing what he loves? Then why not take advantage of it? A quick glance down to his open guitar case lets Marcus know that he's making quick progress towards the purchase of a new modulator for the electric guitar that he's refurbishing, and he offers a nod in thanks to the old man that just dropped off a couple of bills onto the respectable pile that's already there. He follows up the gesture with another soulful wail to end the current song that he's performing, his voice trailing off along with the strains of his guitar, fading into the background noise of the park. Someone off to Marcus's left offers a meagre clapping before realizing that no-one else has stopped to applaud, and so hastily drops a five dollar bill into the guitar case before shuffling on along, and Marcus calls out a hearty 'Thanks!' before starting to tidy up his collection. A decent haul so far, and it's not even lunch time! But he's hungry, and decides to get some grub in him before starting another set. The majority of the cash he's accumulated is tucked safely away into his jeans, and Marcus carefully packages up his guitar, scanning the immediate surroundings as he ponders what to eat today. There's enough choices in the form of various food kiosks nearby. Gyros - no. Corn dogs - not today. Ka-bobs, not Marcus's style. Subs? Mm. His tummy rumbling, Marcus heads over towards the sub cart, though as he moves along his gaze catches the unique sight of the lavender colored elf that's eating nearby. He does a double-take at the skin color of the woman, perhaps not quite believing he saw her correctly at first, before he grins and shakes his head, reprimanding himself for staring a bit. As long as he's lived in New York now, he should be used to such things out of the ordinary! Out of the ordinary!? Really!? Why to Clarice she's very ordinary. She's not some mutant fre.. okay well. The elf's glance lifts upwards to catch the double take from the musician as the music stops and the young man makes his way towards the subway shop. (Which had a delightful selection of subs pre-made, wrapped up and easily snitched.) As his double take, Clarice has to just inwardly sigh, she's still not use to the attention she garners. But stubborn refusal to stick to 'mutant town', keeps the elf in the lime light as it where, right in the middle of everything, and happy because of it. A cool look of luminous green eyes greets that double-take, as Clarice's gaze moves to hold Marcus and meets it head on, not a flinch, just a slight twist of her mouth into a grin, before she turns her attention back to the book in her lap. Another bite of her subway sandwich, and the elf's fingers turn the page, flipping onto a picture there of a strikingly beautiful blonde - riding a flying horse. Without really realizing she's doing it, Clarice lets out a soft gasp of. "Oh wow. I wonder if she rides a flying horse! That'd be so cool. " Though no one is around to answer her, so Clarice things, leaving the elf to just lift the book upwards - as the spine reads 'Legends of Asgard - truth or fiction'? It didn't take terribly long to track down the music. What he was going to do, Doug didn't know. An emancipated starving musician? Probably buy him a meal. All thoughts of doing such a thing, however, is abandoned as a very hard-to-miss lavender elf becomes quite visible. The music had ended, but Doug was betting that the person with the guitar -must- have been the source of the music, and apparently about to find something to eat on his own. Something about the man reminded him of... of something at the back of his mind, but... eh. It wasn't a big deal, was it? "Clarice!" Doug calls out, as he approaches. "How're you doing...?" he asks, tilting his head to nod at Marcus, a grin, a tap of his ear, and a thumbs up as an acknowledgement and appreciation of the music. Anyone who wasn't completely immersed in a book - or talking to one Douglas Ramsey - might notice a sudden lull in the sound of the conversations going on at the nearby food kiosks, only for them to resume at a slightly higher volume and with a slightly more excitable tone. But this is New York. Whatever's drawn the passersby's attention, however outlandish, quickly becomes accepted. There's the sounds of a few phones being used to take pictures, but not much more than that... until Clarice will hear a quiet jingle of harness, a slight creak of leather, and feel a large body moving past behind her bench. And if that doesn't get her attention, the arrival of a very large equine nose over her shoulder to sniff with interest at her sub might just do it. The nose is attached to a very large and extremely white horse, who's looking at Clarice's sub with undisguised interest, and who will probably relieve her of it if she's not careful. And if that wasn't unusual enough, the big white horse has a pair of big white wings tucked neatly against his flanks. Meanwhile, over at the sub kiosk itself, as Marcus approaches he'll find himself in line behind a tall woman, wearing jeans and a leather jacket, whose long blonde hair is bound in a pair of braids that hang over her shoulders. As she turns away from the vendor, who's looking with some puzzlement at the small stack of golden coins in his hand, Marcus will find himself confronting a pair of very blue eyes that might just appear familiar. The black tee shirt the woman's wearing, emblazoned with the words 'DRINK MEAD AND PRAISE ODIN' might jog his memory if not. The woman's eyes narrow, and then she grins down at him. "The Lady Annabelle's liege-man!" She exclaims. "How does this fine day find you, Marcus Peet?" The unflinching gaze and the grin that Clarice gives Marcus causes the black man to smile a bit broader, and he gives the elf a nod of acknowledgment in return. He feels a bit bad that he got caught staring, really, and he's glad that the girl doesn't seem to be holding it against him. In fact, he just about alters his path to begin heading over towards the girl to speak to her directly, when she turns her attention back down to the book she's reading. For a brief moment, Marcus considers heading on along to anyways - but just then, Doug shows up and the moment is completely gone. Marcus returns Doug's thumbs up with a brief nod of his own head before he decides to leave the two others to their own conversation, keep on moving straight forward towards the sub cart. The two clearly known each other, and Marcus doesn't really want to intrude. Besides, he is hungry after all, and if he doesn't get some food in him soon, his stomach is going to start growling louder than he can sing over! Though as he gets into line at the kiosk, his thoughts stray back the elf - Clarice, the blonde man called her. Maybe he'll see if she and the blonde guy wouldn't mind some company after he gets his sub, he thinks to himself, and he realizes as he ponders this just how cute the lavender elf was, and how those luminescent green eyes were quite fascinating indeed... So absorbed in these thoughts is Marcus that he doesn't notice or recognize the statuesque woman in line before him at the kiosk, and is quite taken off guard by the enthusiastic greeting. He blinks rapidly as he's brought back to the here and now, and the dark hues of his skin actually pale a noticeably at the sight of the Asgardian, his eyes widening. "Lady who's what-now?" he repeats, before takes a step back away from the tall warrior. "Aw, sh..." he starts to mutter, before collecting himself as he regards the woman. "Well, I *was* doing pretty good. You know, I ain't seen that woman in months and if you're looking for her I can't tell you where she is. I still have nightmares about those ...whatever the hell they were, you know." In direct opposition to Valkyrie, he doesn't seem quite as pleased to be making the re-acquaintance. Her name - called out with enthusiasm and friendliness? Clarice's gaze flickers upwards as her confusion sweeps away to a friendly smile of greeting. "Mister Ramsey!" She intones in her over-the-top manner of calling everyone by their last name, versus first. (And since Doug has not asked her otherwise, Clarice keeps it that way.) With a quick shift on the bench, Clarice scoots over to one side, pulling the books that are strayed around her together, to stuff them into a brand new Nike back-pack at her feet. All of the books deal with Asgardian legends and myths. As she's doing so, the elf's quick to also reply with a cheerful. "I am doing quite well, today. How about yourself?" So pre-occupied with putting the bags away, she initially doesn't quite register the sounds behind her, not until a snout reaches downward and snags her vegetarian sub-sandwich out to chomp it heartily into bits. There is a slightly startled. "Hey..!" Followed by. "What.." And poor Doug - he's utterly forgotten as Clarice leaps to her feet and lets out a gasped. "WOAH!" The exclamation is then replaced with standing still, watching, mouth opened, unable to move - just gawking at the winged horse. WINGED HORSE. "...woah." That is spoken with less vocal and more awe, as Clarice's voice finally works again. "Is.. is horse .. winged. White. Wow. Woah. Horse. Yours?" She inquires finally to Doug, her luminous green eyes sparkling like a wide eyed child. "Woah.." She repeats, wishing she had more food to give it. "Woah.." She continues, not sure what else to say -- really. "Oh, please, Clarice... just call me Doug..." the young blond mutant begins, after just the briefest flash of reading off Marcus's body langauge. Oh. Of course. Well, he -had- to admit Clarice wasn't bad-looking at all. His elaboration is cut off, however, by the jingling and jangling that approaches Clarice. Or maybe it's just the enormous winged equine that has given him pause... No, no. Where there was the equine, there was... A startled wide-eyed look, as Doug tilts his head towards the... oh yes, the bad-news woman, the one that was all sinews and muscles and doom, the whiff of death about her. "N-no. That's... that's definitely not mine. Hers, though..." Come on, get ahold of yourself. Just because it's a Valkyrie didn't mean death was going to come around. "Um. It's... it's likely hers." He indicates Brunnhilde, plastering on a not-quite-sincere smile that betrays some nervousness. "Want to say hi?" Maybe she was there for the musician...? Though he had to wonder just what sort of heroic death in battle one could do at a sub cart... Brunnhilde is not completely oblivious to Marcus recoiling away from her, but she doesn't seem offended by his reaction. In fact, she offers him a reassuring smile. "Trolls." She reminds him helpfully. "They were trolls. And you should sleep easy, you acquitted yourself well against them, did you not?" She clearly means the words to be encouraging, and lets them hang for a moment before shaking her head. "I come seeking nothing but lunch..." She raises her sub as proof, "...and a pleasant day in the sun for myself and for..." She becomes aware of some commotion, not too terribly far away. "...Aragorn." She finishes, in a disapproving tone, her eyes having left Marcus and alighted on the winged horse who's munching on something that clearly is not the abundant grass around him. Brunnhilde gives him a stern look and a shake of her head, but in doing so her eyes light on the two people he is menacing. Brunnhilde waves a hand in salute to Clarice - and smiles knowingly at Doug - and then looks toward Marcus again. "There are others here you should meet, Marcus Peet." She announces, and turns back to the sub vendor, who's jumps into the conversation at once. "Look, this what you gave me, is this gold?" "Aye." "...well OK then. What..." "Give this man whatever food he wishes, the remainder is yours." "Yes ma'am." Brunnhilde nods in satisfaction. This is still something she's struggling with. Turning on her heel, she strides over to Clarice and Doug, putting a hand out to rub Aragorn's nose almost absently. "Clarice, who is known as Blink. And you..." She looks at Doug, amused. "...who would remain nameless. This..." She gestures to Marcus. "Is Marcus Peet, who fought trolls at my side." For the moment oblivious to the winged horse and the commotion that it's causing not too far away, Marcus is instead still focused on the death-maiden before him, and rather nonchalant way that she's referring to the last time that they met. "Trolls?" he echoes, before repeating the word a second time. "Trolls? And I don't know that *you* think happened, but where I come from curling up into a little ball isn't really 'acquitting yourself'..." He draws his lips together as he then follows Brunnhilde's gaze, and can't help quirk his eyebrow as the tall woman makes noise about introducing himself to Clarice and the blonde man that's with her. Marcus would really just prefer to wish the warrior woman a nice life and go on about his business without risk of being dragged into another fracas such as his only other encounter with her (her promises of seeking nothing other than lunch aside). But as luck would have it, it seems she knows the others and as that's where Marcus was planning on heading anyways, he decides he may as well take advantage of that fact. When the directive is given for the vendor to give Marcus free reign of his sub selection, the black musician still offers the man there a five-dollar bill before selecting a neatly wrapped roast beef sandwich, and then hastens his steps as he catches up to Valkyrie as they approach the others. Sub in one hand, guitar case in the other, Marcus offers a warm and friendly smile and a nod of acknowledgement to first Clarice, and then the as-of-yet un-named Doug, about ready to introduce himself - when Valkyrie does it for him. His eyes glance quickly towards the warrior in a brief aside, before he clears his throat. "She fought the trolls. I just, uh... Well, I don't really know what I was doing there, really," he confesses. "Anyways. Pleased to meet you both," he finally adds, smiling again as his attention draws back to Clarice. When Doug finally does the 'call me Doug' instead of 'Mister Ramsey', even the sight of a winged horse can't stop the wide grin to Clarice's features at that, offering Doug her best impish expression. "Doug it is." She states, her eyes still half-glazed over from the excitement of seeing a Pegasus. A true Pegasus. When Doug gestures towards the musician and Valkyrie, well, everything else is forgotten (once again). "Woah." It is a word that the elf can't quite stop saying. "That's the same one from before, right, that thought I was a sssl...ssaaav... ssssvakle.. a dark elf!" Clarice finally gets out, the strange foreign tongue butchered as badly as one can. (Though hey, give the elf a break, she's barely got an education!) As eager as Clarice is to re-make Valkyrie's acquaintance, the elf /does/ pick up on Doug's fairly .. almost sincere but not quite smile. A hesitance in his voice, something that though Clarice doesn't not know him very much, can at least pick up slightly upon. Every inch of her wants to scream, yes lets..! But she pauses, uncertainty on her features, unsure /why/ Doug is slightly ... nervous? Frightened? Apprehensive? Clarice isn't sure. Still, as the elf pauses in saying anything, just scanning Doug's features with her own luminous green eyes - she doesn't need to worry about it, as Val and the musician make their way over! "Miss Valkyrie!" Comes Clarice's enthusiastic tone, fan-girl adoration written on her features, as she reaches her right hand outwards in a clasp of greeting to the Warrior Woman. "It is an honor to see you again." When Val introduces Marcus, Clarice's gaze flickers to the musician a moment. "You play extraordinarily well, sir." She offers, "I was quite enjoying your music. And as a fighter of trolls alongside a Valkyrie - you must be quite the warrior." Marcus' words, Clarice decides is just modesty. To Val - though, fangirlishly, Clarice returns her attention. "You horse have winged?" Clarice gets her entire sentence mixed entirely up. Oh look, the Valkyrie was approaching. The smile isn't quite there, he knows it, the Valkyrie knows it, but at least Doug was trying to manage some semblance of courtesy. "Miss... Valkyrie. Marcus. Ah... it's a p-pleasure." No, really, Doug -could- speak any sort of language. It just was lots easier when his body let him. Diverting his attention from the warrior woman, settling on wthe musician, Doug's voice seems to be a bit more at ease. "You're a troll fighter?" he asks, one hand fidgeting with the other. "Did, um... did you knock them over the head with your guitar or something?" Brunnhilde doesn't debate Marcus as to the merits of his troll-fighting technique - the fact that he survived and subdued the creatures that would have killed and eaten not only him but his companion as well should be enough for any man, but she's well aware that her attempts to assure him of this haven't helped so far, and are unlikely to do so in future. Clarice's greeting is much more to her liking, and she smiles in answer to the unusual young woman's excited words, not hesitating to reach out her own hand - though she clasps Clarice's arm wrist-to-wrist, rather than hand-to-hand as she might have been expecting. "Well met. And please, my name is Brunnhilde." Her head swivels to Doug and she gives him a nod at his less than heartfelt greeting, before releasing her grip on Clarice as Marcus joins them. "Nonsense." She says as he plays down his involvement in that particular adventure. "You shared in our victory." Doug's suggestion, though, draw a bit of a laugh from the tall Asgardian. "Not exactly." She tells Doug. "He is a man of unusual talents." She explains. Perhaps luckily, Clarice's garbled question draws her attention away. "Aye." She smiles, and cannot resist. "My horse have winged." Glancing to one side, she calls, "Aragorn?" The big white horse looks up and trots obediently over from where he had wandered to, looking at Clarice and the others with strangely intelligent eyes. "I believe Clarice wishes to make your acquaintance." She says quietly, and Aragorn leans forward to snuffle a bit at Clarice's hair. Marcus Peet, Troll-Slayer. For a moment, the musician seems torn as whether or not to embrace the suggestion that he's such a heroic figure. Really, he knows how little of a fighter he actually is, and has absolutely no desire to even *see* something like a troll ever again, let alone face one in battle. But, when a cute elf starts offering compliments on not only his singing, but his supposed battle prowess as well? Well, sure, there's the temptation to play that up a little bit, isn't there? In fact, Marcus starts to draw in his breath, ready to do just that, when Doug makes the suggestion that his primary weapon may well have been, of all things, his guitar. "My guitar?" he answers incredulously. "Naw man, I ain't no Peter Townshend, I only got the one guitar! Well, until I get the electric fixed up," he adds as an afterthought. Though he wonders just what sort of 'unusual' talents the death-maiden may be referring to (unless just staying alive in such a battle is unusual enough), Marcus lets that comment slide, and instead turns his attention back to Clarice and Doug, and the inclusion of the big, white winged horse into the mix. Not one to have much experience at all with animals of any kind, let alone horses, the presence of the horse with huge wings does set the musician at a bit of ill ease -though not near as much as Doug seems to be having. Still, whereas Clarice is nearly beside herself with astonishment, Marcus gives the creature a dubious look, as if it may perhaps try to steal his food or something. In fact, in a pre-emptive move, Marcus makes certain his fingers are wrapped securely around his beef sandwich and elects not to unwrap it to eat just yet, no matter how hungry he is or what sort of rumbly noises his stomach is making. "Careful," he offers to Clarice in warning then. "Don't let it eat your hair..." So much going on, so absolutely fabulous that the lavender elf has a difficult time moving between conversations. Doug. Brunnhilde. Marcus. At least she has the presence of mind to do a proper warrior clasp, wrist upon wrist! Now if only the library books where her own, instead of borrowed, she would have Val sign one of them! As it is though, Clarice will return the books to the library so other fans of the Gods of Asgard may read upon their glory. When Aragorn makes his way towards Val, and proceeds to sniff at Clarice's hair, the elf is so /gobsmacked/, she stops breathing. A deep rush of air into her lungs, and there it remains for a good, long time. She has no idea what to do, she's never met an animal of such intelligence before, much less one that has wings and is taller than she is! It is such a sight, that the elf nearly passes out from not breathing. The pain in her lungs does cease that wonder, however, as a rush of air comes out and back in again with quick succession. Marcus' words are some faint thing in the distance, as Clarice's hands gently lift upwards to pat upon the horse's cheeks, very very gently, timidly. "It is an honor to make -your- acquaintance noble Aragorn." She breaths outwards, (at least she's breathing again). Trying her best not to seem like a complete and utter idiot, Clarice turns to Val and with a glazed over expression of pure excitement and adrenaline, and disappears with a *blink*, a flash of hot pink, and is gone just like that. *Poof*. A second ticks by. Another. A third. A fourth. A full half minute transpires, and then the elf returns, a basket of apples in her arms, as she turns to Val. "Anyone care for an apple - and would Aragorn like one?" A thin-lipped smile on his face, Doug studiously nods at Brunnhilde. Marcus, though, gets a bit more of upraised quirks at the corners of his mouth. "Unusual talents, yes. The music, particularly, was attention-gathering. I'm guessing, though, you didn't play music at trolls?" Still, when Aragorn starts to sniff at Clarice's hair, Doug looks concerned. "Careful, or..." Wow... Clarice. Breathe... And then boof. Wide-eyed, Doug exchanges a glance with Marcus, before looking at Brunnhilde. "Um... you didn't...?" he begins, before wrinkling his nose. No, that... that was impossible. And then Clarice returns, and Doug remembers to breathe himself. Thank heavens. Reaching for an apple gratefully, Doug nods, now looking a mite bit more comfortable. "Absolutely." Brunnhilde makes an almost pained noise at Marcus' words of caution for Clarice. "/He/ will not eat her hair, Marcus Peet." She tells him in a faintly exasperated tone, though when she sees the death grip he's got on his sandwich she chuckles quietly to herself. "Though you are wise to hold to your food so tightly." She doesn't sound entirely serious. For his part, Aragorn submits to Clarice's touch without complaint, and even leans into her hand a bit, as if urging her not to be so tentative. His ears flick backwards when Marcus talks about hair-eating, but he affects not to be listening to the man as he bad-mouths him. When the lavender elf suddenly blinks away, though, that's enough to startle the big horse, and he takes a step back, snorting, and tosses his mane. "Be at ease, my friend." Brunnhilde tells him soothingly, reaching out to stroke his neck. Expecting Clarice to return almost immediately, she waits a few seconds, then looks down at Doug. "I did not...?" She asks, before catching his meaning and shaking her head. "Certainly not. I did nothing." She looks affronted at the very suggestion, but fortunately Clarice picks that moment to return. "Thank you." The Valkyrie says, accepting an apple - and giving Aragorn a friendly slap on the neck as he whickers and leans forward eagerly. "Remember your manners." She tells him fondly, then looks to Clarice. "I fear you have your answer." Watching dubiously, Marcus holds his breath as Clarice begins to not only let the horse nuzzle towards her, but she actually reaches out and starts to pet the beast. This is going to end badly, he just knows it. He's not certain why he has that growing dread in the pit of his stomach - maybe he watched too many episodes of 'When Farm Animals Attack' on the Animal Planet when he was younger. Regardless, he's pretty distracted as Doug asks him about the troll encounter, and Marcus just shakes his head. "Didn't do much actually, other than-" But whatever else he's about to say is cut off, as suddenly and inexplicably, Clarice just disappears. She's just gone. And Marcus can only think of one explanation as to why. "The horse did something to her!" he blurts out, whirling to face Brunnhilde. "Where'd she go? What'd it do?? Shit, I knew she shouldn't have touched it!" But then, just as he really starts to get wound up, Clarice comes back as swiftly as she left - and not only looks completely safe and unharmed, but she's toting a full basket of apples and offering them about as if nothing was amiss. To say the least, Marcus is quite confused. He glances back and forth between everyone, and as it becomes apparent that whatever happened was no fault (or cause) of Valkyrie or her horse, Marcus clears his throat about as he also takes one of the offered apples, setting down his guitar to do so. "Thanks..." he starts, before he then turns to Brunnhilde, setting his jaw. "I ah... Sorry. I, ah... It, I mean he... I haven't had much experience with, you know, magical horses." Marcus then clams up before he puts his foot any further in his mouth. A completely confused expression crosses over Clarice's expression as she returns, noting the expressions upon the musician and Doug's faces. One brow idly arches upwards over her luminous green orbs as she takes a step forward, idly petting Aragorn on the neck, as she feeds him the apples, as many as he so desires. "It is an honor to meet you, noble Aragorn, you may eat as many as you like, as long as it does not make you ill." Which Clarice assumes the animal not only knows exactly what she's saying, but will stop when it has had enough. This, she fears, Val will need to step in and cease if it gets too much out of hand. "I have read many tales and legends over the past few days." Clarice offers to Val then, her hands still idly stroking the horse's mane, and neck, "Where I come from; such things weren't even placed into legends, or fairytales. The only fairytales I read were filled with dread, and horror and bad things. Greatly different than the ones here Grimm and those princesses on the television - that have an entire line of clothing associated with them." Reluctantly, Clarice takes a step to one side, and tilts her head backwards, to offer Val a wide smile. Everyone else. Sorry - forgotten. "Perhaps some day you might regale tales of where you live, I would greatly enjoy that." Val's shirt is glanced at with a curious eye, before Clarice turns slightly to offer Doug a wide smile. "Maybe tomorrow I can come by and collect the cord, Doug? I need to return yours." And to Marcus.. well, Clarice grins brightly. "And I'd love to hear more about your troll tales too! But - I should go, as its getting late, and.." And she needs to find a place to stay, but Clarice doesn't go that far, just grins. "Anyway. I'm.. well, usually always here, when the weather permits." A bright, chipper smile - and Clarice disappears with a blink. The backpack is gone, but the basket of apples is placed upon the ground. Category:Log